


As he lay dying

by crazychipmunk



Series: As they lay dying [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Children, F/M, Future Fic, King's Landing, Post-Canon, Post-War, Storm's End (ASoIaF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazychipmunk/pseuds/crazychipmunk
Summary: As he lay dying, Gendry thinks about Arya and the future they'll never have, the future he squandered before the battle even began. When the future does come to pass, Gendry's son asks about the father he never met.





	As he lay dying

**Author's Note:**

> Good luck to Gendrya in 8x05. Please comment with what you think/inevitable 8x05 reactions

As he lay dying, Gendry looked at the sky over the Dragonpit. He had expected to die on the Kingsroad, or Dragonstone, or Winterfell. Alone, in a strange land, far from home. But here he was, bleeding out in King's Landing, walking distance from Flea Bottom where he was born. Home. Or was it?  
  
Home is where your family is. Gendry's never had a family. His mother died when he was too little to even remember her properly; his father was too busy getting drunk in the Red Keep to even know he existed. There was no family waiting for him in King's Landing. There never had been. Home was supposed to be Storm's End now. His father's seat, then his uncle's, and now his.  
  
Growing up, all Gendry wanted was a name, any name. And now he had one of the most fabled names in the land but all he wished was to go back to being a nameless bastard smith. That's when she had loved him and now that he was a lord, she could love him no longer. He would rather die as the bastard smith whom Arya Stark loved, than live a long life as the Lord of Storm's End.  
  
The battle raged on in Backwater Bay. Greyjoy against Greyjoy grappled in the water while the Dragon Queen laid waste to King's Landing from Drogon's back. He could hear the screams of the common folk all the way from the depths of the Dragonpit.  
  
Gendry was hardly the only man left dying in the Dragonpit. The cries and moans of the maimed filled his ears, but he could not bring himself to join the chorus of misery.  
  
The truth was, Gendry had died a fortnight ago in Winterfell. When he bent down on one knee, drunk from ale and his new name, he could so clearly see the future. Arya smiling up at him as he clasped a yellow Baratheon cloak around her shoulders. Arya standing on Storm's End's tallest turret, soaking wet and challenging the storm to fight her. Arya cradling a newborn babe in her arms, dark-haired and blue-eyed, the future of House Baratheon.  
  
There was no future for Gendry now. No surviving the war. No Storm's End. _No featherbeds for me._ None of it was worth anything now that she wasn't with him. Perhaps it was selfish to let the Baratheon line extinguish because a woman had broken his heart. But there could be no woman after Arya and as Gendry looked down at his bloody, ruined torso, he knew the Baratheon line was going out no matter if he wanted it to or not.  
  
In the corner of his eye, he saw some septas rushing in to tend to the wounded. _Give me something for the pain and let me die,_ he thought. But as he shut his eyes for the last time, Gendry knew there was not enough milk of the poppy in the entire world to sooth his pain. He would carry this heartbreak into the next life and for many lives to come.  
  
Back when they were children, Gendry never dared to say her name. It would have put her in danger and besides, he liked the way both anger and affection flashed in her eyes when he called her "m'lady."

Her name, Arya, still felt foreign on his lips, but with his last breath, he whispered it into the smoky air. It felt like coming home. As his consciousness slipped away, Gendry imagined Arya calling back to him and he smiled, happy that the last thing he would ever hear was her voice saying his name in return. 

* * *

 The Lord of Storm's End was Baratheon-born, no one could deny that. Dark-haired, blue-eyed, the spitting image of his father and his father before him. However, the young lord was not Baratheon brash and bold. He was somewhat slighter, quick in both thinking and movement like his mother.  
  
Davos was thankful the young lord was so sharp, the Stormlanders were not keen to accept the bastard son of a bastard lord but over the years, the Lord of Storm's End had earned their loyalty.  
  
An old man, or an even older man now, Davos was keen on nostalgia. As he watched the handsome young lord confidently direct the going ons in the Stormlands, he couldn't help but think of the lord as a boy, growing up alone in Storm's End.

* * *

  
"Why doesn't my mother visit more often?" The boy used to ask.  
  
"Your mother has fought in many wars, young lord, and she is fighting them still to keep you and the Seven Kingdoms safe."  
  
"She says she cannot stay because she is not a lady. But she is a Stark and was a lord's daughter and grew up in a castle. That makes her a lady."  
  
Arya's constant absence was difficult to explain, especially to a child, so Davos was usually able to distract the young lord with stories of Arya's conquests and triumphs. But once, after a particularly long absence, the young lord turned his face away from Davos as he started to tell the story of the Long Night.  
  
"I know why she stays away from me," the boy said, voice cold as ice, "She cannot bear to look at me. I look too much like him." Davos opened his mouth to reply but the young lord kept going, "I don't know anything about him. My mother won't tell me anything. I know she forbade you from telling me anything as well. Few people knew him and those who did are all dead."  
  
Davos was impressed with the boy's astuteness. Arya Stark had indeed threatened to cut off his tongue should he tell her son anything about his father. Even after giving birth she had been fearsome, climbing to the tallest turret of Storm's End in the rain, screaming at the gods for leaving her son fatherless. After, she had stolen a magnificent Baratheon yellow cloak, the one used for generations for weddings, and left. The babe was dark-haired and blue-eyed like his father, and she could not bear even to hold him.  
  
Suffice to say, Davos was terrified of Arya Stark's wrath, but the pained look on the young lord's face was too much to refuse. Davos had already lost a few fingers, he probably could get used to living without a tongue.  
  
"Do you know why memories of your father pain your mother so?" Davos asked. The boy shook his head. "Your father proposed to your mother before the Battle of King's Landing. It was his first act as a lord, asking her to be his lady. But she turned him down and the next time she saw him, he was lying in the Dragonpit, mortally wounded. As she ran towards him, she heard him whisper her name and she saw him smile. He died moments before she reached him. She saw his soul slip away."  
  
There were tears in the young lord's eyes now, "Why didn't she tell me this?" he asked.  
  
"I didn't want you to live a life obsessed with death," said a familiar voice from a shadow. Davos and the young lord both screamed as Arya Stark emerged from a corner of the room.

"I turned down your father because I chose revenge over him and only when he was dead did I realize my mistake. I would trade the death of my greatest enemy for a long life with your father. My brother died avenging our father. Your father died avenging my family. I was lucky to have you, my son, and I will not lose you to a war over the already dead. I will not lose you the same way I lost your father."  
  
The young lord stopped asking about his father after that, though Davos suspects Arya finally told him about the father he never met. After that visit, the boy became less like Arya, showing his father's kind heart and gentle nature. Arya did not cut off Davos' tongue in the end, Davos guessed he also had the young lord to thank for that.

* * *

The sound of many boots echoing through the dreary halls of Storm's End snapped Davos out of his reverie. A delegation had just arrived from Dorne and they were eyeing the Lord of Storm's End suspiciously. He stared straight back, unwavering. Davos cleared his throat and announced, "You stand in the presence of Lord Gendry Baratheon, Second of his Name."

**Author's Note:**

> If you found that too sad, try my other fic "As she lay dying." Guaranteed less sad or your money back


End file.
